


letters to ṣ̴̓e̶͔͐n̷̹̈d̷̲̾

by Laeana



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: A Sentence A Story, Allies, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Hunters, Ancient History, Character Turned Into Vampire, Dirty Jokes, Established Relationship, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Friendship/Love, Head of Mafia, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, Kissing, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Memories, Misunderstandings, Personal Challenge, Prompt Fic, Some Humor, Supernatural Elements, Tattoos, Travel, Weapons, angst and hurt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:41:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28534587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laeana/pseuds/Laeana
Summary: I wanted to do something else so I decided to use some prompts while trying to make them a bit more displaced than usual.Here's my imagination having fun !
Relationships: Alexander Albon/Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz Jr & Lance Stroll, Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen, Esteban Ocon/Lance Stroll, Lando Norris/Carlos Sainz Jr, Lando Norris/Max Verstappen, Lewis Hamilton/Nico Rosberg, Pierre Gasly/Charles Leclerc, Sergio Perez/Lance Stroll
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	1. “This isn’t anything like how I imagined it.” (Charles/Max)

The world is burning around him. The heat would almost hurt him, fire, fire everywhere. Charles can't really breathe. He feels he could get carried away too, his death would probably be a relief, a way to relieve him of the pain he is currently feeling, everywhere, in his heart.

Several of their friends are lying around him. He holds in his arms Daniel who closed his eyelids, surely for the last time. He can't see too far, a fog of sulfur blocks his vision and constricts his throat. His eyes are swollen from the tears he has shed and the tears that keep rolling down his cheeks prevent him from keeping a clear field of vision.

He is certain that the corpse of Pierre is located a little further. A few meters further perhaps. He can't see it, he can't find it. But it’s right there. Fear began to rise up his chest, deep and endless anguish.

But he cannot die.  **He** probably wouldn't allow it.  **He** probably wants him to stay alive until the end to witness the death of all and all those he loves. The people, the landscapes, the world. And when there will be nothing left, only the two of them, then  **he** can take his life.

He knows him, he knows the sadism of what is in him, of what he has helped to awaken. He didn't think badly, he never thought badly. He believed he was helping him, sincerely. He loved him so much … 

Emerging from the fog, Max, or at least that’s who he was, now has totally crimson eyes and a crooked smile that distorts the features of his face. Reigning in the heart of chaos, reveling in it, like every second reinforced by the death and desolation around him.

He wonders where this Max went, so shy, terrified of what he could shelter. This Max to whom he reached out, against whom he shouted and cried and got angry so many times, the one with whom he fell terribly in love.

He was magnificent, with his fragility and his flaws, with his doubts and questions.

“So, my love, does this live up to your expectations ?” Max smiles, cruel, cold, amused by the despair in his eyes.

But it's not enough. His tears and sobs won't bring everyone around him back, ever. It's all his fault. Everything is his fault and now nothing and no one will be able to stop the inexorable fall towards which the world is plunging.

Max sheltered the demon. Or was. He had never known the difference. He had wanted to free him from it, he had wanted to bring him out to save him from what was devouring him from the inside, he had broken him in order to try to help him … he never has been so wrong. 

Max stands in front of him and lifts him up with one hand, a firm grip on his neck, if he tightens a little, he could slowly suffocate him. An impatient glow in his bloody irises. He didn’t offer an answer, he will not offer one.

Max seems to understand this since he brings him towards him with a flexible gesture before kissing him splendidly, with breathtaking slowness and ardor, tightening his embrace around him. So freezing, similar to what the Grim Reaper might give. As if to steal what little energy he had left. Max lets him go by biting his lip, his scarlet gaze devouring him, burning him, slaying him, before dropping him to the ground triumphantly.

“Enjoy the spectacle from this golden throne that I have erected for you, my love. I hope that when I'm done with our loved ones, you will show me a more beautiful, even deeper despair.”

Max smiles at him and he knows it's not him anymore. That he can no longer call him by that name. There is nothing of Max in these monstrous features, distorted by obsession, desire, power.

As his executioner turns away, Charles sinks back onto Daniel's inert chest, tears rolling down his cheeks again. It will not end, it will never end. Until there is nothing left around them. 

There is no one left to hear him when a miserable whisper crosses his lips, probably the last words he would be able to utter, each word of which seems more broken than the last :

“ **This isn’t anything like how I imagined it.** ” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my mind just went and what if demon Max to destroy the world ? I just followed it x)  
> And I was proposed lestappen which is a ship I never wrote on it so ... 
> 
> can't wait to write some more stories ... hope you liked it !
> 
> tumblr : laeana


	2. “Don't worry; it hurts a little less each time.” (Nico/Lewis)

“Do you think that one day I will become a mark on your skin ?” Lewis whispered in his ear, absently tracing a line of ink with his fingertips - the second he ever had.

“I hope not.” Nico simply replied, with a small smile.

Yes it’s something that he didn’t hope for, he didn’t want it to happen, that he would like to avoid at all costs. Because to say that Lewis would mark his skin, that means he would hurt him. And he would like to believe in their romance a little longer, just a little longer.

They are happy after all.

They are rare in the world, people like him. They are rare but they do exist. Each love story that ended with a broken heart inexorably ended up appearing on the skin in a diverse form, like a tattoo, depicting the impact, the hurt, and its magnitude.

Nico has several, of different sizes. Six, until then. He's not young, but he's not very old either. He thinks six is a reasonable number for someone in their twenties like him. It probably is reasonable.

Meeting Lewis was like a dream.

He was part of a group of friends. One day, Seb had brought back a young man after him, a long-time friend that he had wanted to introduce to them for some time and it had been love at first sight of sorts. After all, Lewis was absolutely gorgeous, with his charming smile and his calm tone, his soft voice.

Nico was almost shy, felt almost sad. He, usually so confident, then lost all his words in front of such a face. He almost felt stripped naked, undressed, when they had barely started the conversation.

He was scared too, terribly scared. Because letting go of his feelings and agreeing to fall in love, to dig deeper into what he felt deep inside, was to accept that he was probably hurt once more. He had already given a lot from this point of view, given with different people, men and women, it didn't change anything. The gender never changed anything.

The pain was still stinging.

But he had always wanted to see more of him. If not lovers, at least they could be friends. And Lewis was such an interesting person, so full of knowledge and facts that it was not hard to befriend him. Not at all.

He felt like he was on an obstacle course and it was too late. It was Seb's friend, first of all, not his. He had made a mistake already. The mistake of getting too close to the sun when having wings made of wax.

However, Nico had asked him to go on a first date and by a kind of oddity of fate, Lewis had accepted.

And it had been absolutely magical. Everyone called them the perfect couple and soon he had revealed himself enough to talk about his personal curse, the one he carried in his heart, which marked his body, unstoppable. 

And it didn't bother Lewis who had only hugged him a little tighter, loving him more, madly, without limits. Almost caught up in their passion, believing themselves to be masters of the world, telling themselves that it could last a lifetime.

The naivety of youth perhaps.

He should have known, he should have remembered that Lewis was not initially his friend but Sebastian's.

He should have known that dreams lasted never long. He should have known that as soon as he started this relationship. He should have known that the Brit would eventually go away, leaving him only a little of idyll at the corner of his lips, almost suffocating, his heart strangely empty and heavy.

A bigger mark than he's ever had, blooming down his ribcage, he knows he'll have to contemplate it more, in front of a mirror, wondering what went wrong, what had he done wrong, if there would have been anything to fix it but-

But in the meantime he smiles at Lewis to brush his worries aside, he knows there is no point in keeping people against their liking, their will, it never served him. So he smiles, bright, with a slight nod and says the first sentence that comes to his mind :

“ **Don't worry; it hurts a little less each time.** ”

It was a lie but, as always, Nico was a very good liar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yep I know ... after lestappen, brocedes ... don't ask me why uh.


	3. “I think I'm going to be sick.” (Carlos & Lance)

Carlos contemplates the reason for the whole crime thing, raising his eyebrows. He can't believe it, but there he is, owing his boyfriend an explanation for nothing, really, or next to nothing. Lance blinks, observing what incriminates them over and over again, not understanding either.

“It's uh … what … the heck …” stammers the Canadian but he can't really blame him.

“The angle is compromising, okay. But frankly …”

“Why does it look like I’m giving you a blowjob ? You're not even uh … naked. As if it were possible !”

Lance struggles, stumbles over his words. This situation is too embarrassing for him, too. Esteban and Lando glare at them, always more. Carlos sighs again ; seriously, no matter how much he loves his boyfriend, and he loves him very, very much, he's not really amused. 

“Seriously, I don't understand. It's just a picture of the podium. From any other angle, you'll see Lance is just sitting there. We can call Pierre too but I sure wouldn't let Lance do such a thing …”

A smile shines on his lips, more out of annoyance than anything else. He has an idea suddenly. He exchanges a look with his “accomplice”. 

“... except if he wanted to of course.”

A loud laugh passes through Lance's lips as he feels the gazes of their two boyfriends growing stronger on them, more intense. If look could kill, they would already be dead and buried, yes. 

“Where did you get this photo from ?”

Lando and Esteban exchange a look and he has a vague prayer, a vague hope, something that comes to his mind, but it’s useless. Lando looks down, cheeks slightly red. As usual. His problem child, yes.

“I went on several sites and it was really interesting what they were saying about us. And then it was about fanfictions, at every opportunity, with everyone, between everyone, I'll skip the details, but I wasn’t really happy when I came across this photo-”

“I think that's enough there, cariño.” 

“ **I think I'm going to be sick.** ” Lance mutters softly between them.

Esteban walks up to his boyfriend to rub his arm gently, worried. Carlos rolls his eyes and grabs Lando's arm, sending a simple goodbye to the other two pilots.

“Keep me updated, Lance, if you ever make up your mind !” with that he winks at the Canadian before dragging Lando in his wake before he recovers from the shock and decides to grumble his jealousy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> could fit with that sentence pretty well, so I do hope you liked it hehe !


	4. “It was really cheesy.” (Carlos/Lando)

Lando grimaces as he hears the door fall in front of them. Carlos finishes loosening his ties and cuts his own. He thanks him by kissing him with the tip of the lips. As he pulls back, he knows it smells like trouble. They don't really have time. He lets himself go for a moment, fluttering his eyelashes.

“Did you really mean what you said ?”

“Lando, mi amor …”

“Please.”

Carlos sighs softly, running a hand over his cheek, then gently through his curls. The danger draws near to them. He would almost blame himself but he needs to hear an answer, he needs it. More than anything.

“Of course. Of course I meant it. Always.”

He's still fluttering his eyelashes. His heart beats at his temples. He throws himself into the arms of his love, without worrying about what will happen. His Spaniard drops kisses down his neck before letting him go and picking up an iron bar on the ground.

The hangar fills up, he exchanges a knowing look with his boyfriend.

“Of course I was sincere, if it were up to me I would have already kept you chained to me for the rest of your life, mi sol.”

A first assailant throws himself on him. Lando is faster and thrusts his knee into his chest before retrieving his weapon, which is more practical. A gun. He pouts while counting the bullets. Not of good quality. Behind him he hears gunshots, a sign that his partner has found one too.

“I had this whole scene planned you know? We finally had some time for ourselves, we finally had some free time …”

They should have known that being heads of the Mafia would not give them any rest. But hey, what could have kept them from dreaming ? Nothing, nothing at all. It started off pretty well. Until their kidnapping. But if what is said is true …

He pities the poor souls who dared to lay their hands on them, on him. They are possessive after all. Always when it comes about each other.

Two bullets. He grimaces when the second hits lower than what he hoped for. He’s starting to get a little rusty. What a pity, he will have to improve that.

“I was planning to take you to this little restaurant by the sea. You know the one you adored so much during our first vacation together ? I had reserved the table on the terrace, with an exceptional view of the horizon.”

He feels his cheeks blush faintly. As he lowers his arm, his magazine is empty and he throws the pistol to the side, glaring at his opponents. He knows he looks more frail but it's only a trompe l'oeil that suits him well. He would never have risen so high in the Spanish Mafia if he didn't know how to fight.

He has officiated for a long time, taking advantage of his appeal, but Carlos is a jealous type. So he no longer does this kind of mission, that's clear.

“I had planned an exceptional sweet wine, adapted to your tastes. I knew it wasn't your preference but it would have been adjusted for our meal. I would have waited until dessert, very cliché, but I would have needed time to gather my courage.”

An enemy in front of him falls to the ground, headshot. He turns, raising an eyebrow at Carlos who gives him a brilliant smile. Protector, yes. Maybe a little too much. Who is he to complain ?

“I would have taken your hand in mine before giving you a speech that I would probably have forgotten with the stress. Then I would have simply dragged the box across the table. This ring that I bought months in advance, because it's just you, it's always been you.”

The last body falls to the ground with a thud. Their opponents did not last long and he is almost disappointed. It was hardly a warm-up. Worthy adversaries are difficult to find nowadays.

Almost like a magnet, they attract each other, until they are only a few inches away. His breath on his lips. Eye to eye. Almost unbelievable. They are standing in the middle of a mountain of corpses.

“ **It was really cheesy.** ” He whispers, laughing softly.

“Ah really ?” Carlos answers, devouring him with his eyes.

“Do you have the ring on you ?”

The Spaniard nods, sliding the velvet case out of his jacket pocket. Lando tilts his head to the side, licking his lips, which are too dry.

“It's yes, Carlos. A thousand times yes. I am yours forever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mafia AU ... with a marriage proposal ... was inspired from the start. A conflict, somewhere but this is what came of my ideas mixing with each other ^^


	5. “Go ahead, tear my heart out.” (Alex/Charles)

They had often joked about it. What they might be called upon to do. What was waiting for them. Charles was a vampire, a creature of the night after all, and Alex was part of an illustrious family where hunters had been present for generations. But they had been friends for ten years or something similar.

It had been weird for Alex to meet Charles the first time, a young vampire, barely transformed, one of those with far too human life expectancy. Not those that could live centuries without any problem. They were almost the same age, but Charles's life had already turned to a darker side. It was already too late to try to save him.

They had spent their adolescence together, going to the same schools, hanging out together, always. Even though the shadow of the hunt hung over Alex, more and more every day. Bound to happen.

And Charles teased him about it :

“What will you choose to kill me ? A stake ? Silver bullets ? Or will it be a long and sweet sentence, an agony, painful for both of us …”

And often Alex gave him an embarrassed look, without answering him.

Of course, quiet days cannot last forever. They reach maturity and secrets creep in between them. And there is a distance, it's true, but it was never serious, it was never too much. Charles never allowed it to become too much. He needed Alex, he was his friend.

But one day, a normal day even if there was something in the air, a smell, a thought, an ending, it became too much.

“You have to kill him, Alex. You have to kill him. It is a creature harmful to our species, to our existence.” A woman wraps an arm around his friend's neck and he doesn't know if it's a member of his family or just of the same order.

It is a stake. Is that it ? Is that how his fate ends ? Alex's hand visibly tightens on the improvised weapon and with the look on his face, he understands that it is an obligation. Probably a test, the only way for him to follow in the footsteps of his family. He smiles, sadly, resigned.

“ **Go ahead, rip my heart out.** ” He nods slowly. 

Charles has no hard feelings with him, how could he. If this is what needs to be done, he would rather die by the hand of a friend than that of a stranger. He just closes his eyes. He has never liked to suffer or be faced with pain, he does not want to see his death come in the face. He didn't live enough for. 

Too many regrets probably.

He doesn't hear anything after that. Just darkness. Then a thud. Audible. As if someone fell to the ground. Afterwards, the handcuffs on his wrists which fall and this time, he opens his eyes wide.

Alex stands in front of him, looking determined, helping him up quickly.

“We have to hurry before they suspect anything …”

“We ?! But Alex, are you sick ? What about your future ? And your family ? What-”

“My future ? Have you ever wondered what I want ? Really ? Today, I am answering you. I want you in my life, you are my future.”

“I …”

Alex's lips are on his, a little too quickly. A more timid, smaller, calmer child, but still of undeniable tenderness. A laugh escapes him, what are they doing ? This is not right, it shouldn’t be. But he doesn’t care, as long as Alex is with him.

“You are crazy, Alex Albon. Terribly crazy.”

“Maybe but I don't want to live without you.”

Charles ties their hands together and doesn't untie them as they start to run.

It’s the story of two intertwined destinies, of two lives that were opposed, which should never have met.

This is the story of their flight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so ... here it is. Again a first time for me haha. But it was quite nice. Sweet I must say :)


	6. “I don’t care what you talk about, can you just keep talking ?” (Charles/Pierre)

There is little noise in the room. Pierre's hand crushes his. Charles sighs softly, still not convinced this is a good idea. After all, this is a big one. Even if he's really proud, deep down. Would be really hard for him not to be proud.

“ **I don’t care what you talk about, can you just keep talking ?** ” Pierre mutters, his face painful.

“It shouldn't be very long.”

The tattoo artist gives them an amused smile. It wasn't even his idea to come here, it was Pierre's. He wanted something for them to remember. He bites his lip, he knows well what is tattooed. He knows it's his logo that will take shape on the inside of his boyfriend's thigh and he feels possessive. He complies anyway, seeing the discomfort reflected in the depths of his French eyes.

“Do you remember that karting accident ? I think … no I'm even sure Esteban was there too. You were furious. I was trying to hold you by the waist but it was complicated … we weren’t exactly the same height.”

A vague smile that lands on his lips as he details the memory of that day and Pierre has several emotions that pass in his eyes. Their hands are still tied, he is happy to have forced Pierre to cut his nails before coming. He gulps while he follows the influx, the veins visible along his arm … 

“You know that's not true, I never had anything … with him …”

“Someday, you’ll really have to fix whatever is going on between you two.”

“There is nothing between us, thank you.”

A ruined friendship, yes. Charles kisses Pierre to silence him. Probably his favorite way to do so, since they got together. He feels him tensing under him, probably from the pain. When he pulls back and sits back in his place, the tattoo artist stands up, nodding his head.

“Work finished.”

He has a hard time taking his eyes off the tattoo. Looking up, he realizes it's the same with his boyfriend. Dry mouth. Oh. He remains absorbed in his contemplation while instructions are given. They are not for him, not yet at least, he can indulge in the observation for a few more seconds. Few more minutes ? So hard for him to look elsewhere.

“M.Leclerc ?”

The eyes of the tattoo artist and Pierre are on him. He would almost feel embarrassed. If he still hadn’t this weird pride inside his chest.

“Can we start your tattoo ?”

He nods, carefully undressing to reveal the inside of her left arm, close to his armpit. He chose this place, after lots of reflexion. It was hard to decide where to have a tattoo and how to have it the less visible possible.

A rather tacit agreement, between them, as to how the places will be visible by them and by them alone ... 

Pierre laughs in the background when he is positioned and wonders what kind of pain he will face. That’s really not his favorite part of it all. The Frenchman offers him his hand, just as he offered him his a few minutes earlier. It shouldn't be too long, after all Pierre’s logo isn't that big but still.

Still, it's still a tattoo.

They mark their virgin skin for the first time and what a meaning, what a romanticism to begin by marking it with something that belongs to both. He always feels strangely moved by this idea. Some might see it as some silliness, saying that a relationship may not last, but they know it will.

They have already done the hard part. The bitter and sad part. That may come back but they came out of it alive. They have faced the storms and the chasm of loss in their lives. They stood beside each other, without flinching, without ever leaving. And if they can't predict their arguments, they can at least put forward the love they feel for each other.

And maybe that's not enough, maybe it's too naive. But these tattoos embody a promise they make to each other. A promise of their own.

The needles dig into his skin and he starts to grip Pierre’s hand a little harder. This one smiles, almost mockingly, but affectionate :

“I told you it would hurt, mon cœur, I told you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mon cœur : my heart
> 
> thanks for having read, this perspective was nice to think about ... each other making a tattoo of their logo ... really was entertaining.


	7. 7 - “I'm not afraid of thunder, it's silly-” (Max/Lando)

They are in the arena. They have no shortage of water, not anymore. Max knows how to be careful. They were briefed, they were told about the plan, the conspiracy, and everything that was going on around it. It looks like they have a chance to make it out alive, for once. To be more than one alive. To get their team out of this nightmare. 

Daniel gives him a knowing look as they secure the perimeter around them. They chose the right quarter. They will take turns standing guard and, while he doesn't like it, he knows he has to trust him. He sighs. 

He approaches Lando, who is already trying to sleep. Behind them, Pierre and Charles are discussing in low voices. They are far enough for them not to hear what they’re talking about. As if they would like to know anything about it. He knows they need energy. The hour is advanced, they are approaching midnight.

“Are you okay ?” he asks, gently.

They are not in the same district but have had the opportunity to train together several times. Since they got here, again. A shiver runs through him at the memory of the first time, his first time. His name called. The crowd moving aside to let him step on the platform. His sweaty hands … 

He first fought with his fists, once he got there, once he got every piece of advice possible, he killed three people by smashing their skulls or strangling them. Then he had collected an axe and it had become his favorite weapon. He once again has had the opportunity to recover one, in this new edition. It's heavy and not that easy to handle, but damn it's deadly. Perfect, really. He didn't think he was necessarily capable of winning, but he ended up getting out as the winner. Last unarmed enemy, crawling in front of him, he slammed his axe on his head with a sharp blow. Just enough to kill. A long strident noise announcing the end and his victory.

Lando deposited his two blades behind him, at an attainable distance. Never too far. He understands him. A famous epic like that of this shy, almost puny boy, whom no one claimed favorite, who had found himself murderous when he entered the arena.

He smiles, kisses the top of his head, his brown curls. Darkness surrounds them and he knows that thunder will soon strike the tree. He feels Lando tense under him.

“Thunder ?” he asks, since he has not had an answer.

Lando frees himself from his embrace and stands up on his elbows. His eyes almost glow in the dark, he can make out a puckered pout he makes with his mouth, indignant. Sometimes still looking like a child, that’s true.

“ **I'm not afraid of thunder, it's silly-** ”

At this very moment, thunder strikes on the tree, striking twelve, striking midnight. One of their easiest points of reference. Lando lets out a small cry, his whole body shaking quite violently. Unparalleled terror, he never saw the youngest being so afraid.

He draws him to him, in his arms, keeping him safe. He gently strokes his back, placing kisses on his already wet cheeks.

“Shhh. It's going to be fine, Lando, it's going to be fine.”

Max can't say he knows what it is or if he knows what Lando has been through. He can only stand there and wait. Trying to shield him from wherever fear he feels. Daniel strides back towards them, perhaps he heard the cry and feared an attack. He reassures him with a nod of the head and the older one turns around, leaving them some privacy.

The thunder stops falling, finally. It didn't last very long but he knows that for a phobia, it can seem to last forever.

“You want to talk about it ?” he tries to move back but Lando remains desperately clinging to him.

“Just … stuff from my childhood. Stupid really. But it shook me enough for me to keep remembering it and suffering from it. I was lucky that nothing like this happened the first time around. But here … here every night …”

The atmosphere is tense, he doesn't know what to say. He has to find the right words. He has given up on detaching himself from the younger one and continues to hold him firmly against him. Safe. As if he was safe. Basically, they can never be, as long as they are in the arena. He knows it, they both know it. They have a mission.

“And to think that the blade master's weakness was thunder. All this time ! My mentor was desperate to find something …”

Lando laughs softly and this time pulls back just enough to meet his gaze. As if there were only them here. Clear gaze, sweet one. He never has enough of looking in his eyes.

“And love.” adds the swordsman in a hoarse voice.

The silence. 

Yes, love, probably. Even though he knows it's not the right thing to do, not now. Not when they're there, risking their lives at every turn, every minute. But if they can survive the Hunger Games …

If they can survive it … 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rewatched Hunger Games 2 not so long ago ... don't know why, it inspired me enough to have this written. Hope you liked it!


	8. “I can’t sleep, so can you sing to me ?” (Lance/Sergio)

They advanced into the farthest reaches, where the cold became more severe and with each step, which took them even further from their home, Lance felt a certain pain in his heart. A gentle fire that consumed his soul. It was weird, it felt different. Everything he never knew about … 

He wasn't sure where to go, he wasn't sure his gruesome companion had any idea. They had just decided to leave, hand in hand, in search of these promised lands, these mountains and wonders, mentioned in the legends of old. Those same legends long forgotten.

They received critical looks from their tribe, found themselves isolated. Finding each other was a blessing and then Sergio's hand slipped into his and they had shied away from everything they knew until today. 

Their families, their houses, their villages …

The snow gives way to a forest. It is less cold or at least the cold is less biting. His fur coat sticks to his skin, hardly looks enough anymore. He picked his warmest one without knowing what to expect of this trip. How long have they been traveling ? It seems to him that it's been years. Not that he would complain. He always wanted to travel, he always wanted to see beyond the simple horizon that his home offered him.

And, he must admit, after everything they've been through, each landscape succeeds another more magnificent than the last. 

They live according to the sun, follow the noise of the birds and when they are silent, they dart their gaze on the horizon, without fear of the trials that await them. They are stronger than all of that, after all. They are stronger.

Sergio finds a cave, sheltered from the wind, and begins to build a fire. Lance takes out their things, leaving some to dry by the fire, the snow and the cold having damaged them. It’s not easy to only find a place where to sleep at night. Sometimes they prefer to just continue to walk. Crossing the frozen desert took them days and they couldn’t really rest.

Silence often keeps them. But that doesn't bother them. They are used to it. It didn't take long for them to choose a path, a way out. Because it wasn't enough, because they didn't want to live like the others and die here, without having done anything with their lives. They wanted more and to be more.

He moves closer to Sergio and rests his head on his knees, vaguely observing his companion feeding the fire. Almost hypnotic gestures. A hand that slides on his cheek, with the same softness they offer each other, during each of their embraces. Love swelling in his chest.

“ **I can't sleep, so can you sing to me ?** ”

Sergio offers a slight smile before kissing his forehead, his thumb tracing random patterns on his cheeks. As if to appease him. Surely to do so.

The deep voice that rises. The native language of his companion. He doesn't need to understand, it's simply melodic. A poem whispered in his ear, without any word being familiar to him. Lyrical, harmonious, spreading around them, enveloping them in a strange warmth. A welcomed warmth.

Suddenly, there is no cold, no more wind hitting against the walls of the cave, there are only the two of them and this song echoing in their refuge. The small shatter they manage to find. He feels isolated, at home, they are so far from their home and yet at this moment it is as if they are there again.

He should expect it.

When Sergio offered to flee with him to new lands, he accepted without hesitation. Because he no longer needed a house, a home, a place to live, as long as they stayed together. An intoxicating, almost suffocating sensation.

The ballad takes on more deep accents. Shadows dance on the walls. A spectacle for his eyes which slowly close. Sleep wins him over, although he would like to stay awake a little longer. Just a little bit longer. It's not often that Sergio agrees to sing …

The last thing he feels before sinking is a caress, barely a kiss, placed on his lips.


End file.
